


obitelji

by canoncabbit (counterserum)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 5.45 spoilers, Childhood Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Non-WoL Original Character(s), Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29783496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/counterserum/pseuds/canoncabbit
Summary: Raisa tries to write a letter to Misija. (Post Delubrum Reginae - 5.45 spoilers)
Relationships: Misija Votyasch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	obitelji

There are some conversations better had in person, and yet I do not know if I have it in myself to speak with you face-to-face. ~~Not right now,~~ ~~ not after - ~~

I’m not even sure if I will be able to send you this letter.

I would like to think I am at least strong enough to put these words to paper, if I cannot speak them aloud. 

There are many assumptions I can make about what happened, I can accuse you of never caring to begin with, that your plan had always meant to throw me to the lion’s den and damn everyone else, yet I find myself faltering with the concept that you never cared for any of us. That you never cared for me. Marsak and Bajsaljen may hound you endlessly with their questions, their  _ why’s _ and probe you in order to find some shred of meaning within you, I will do no such thing.

Thing is, I get it. Perhaps I am not the renowned  _ Champion of Eorzea, Liberator of Ala Mhigo, Warrior of Light _ , but I do not need to be - nor have I ever needed - to be some sort of seer to understand what it is to suffer loss and struggle to have others see you as a real person. Bozja has never been kind to people like us, and if there is anything I took away with me when I was forced to flee, it is that even the kindest being can do great cruelty when pushed too far.

(And  _ oh _ , how cruel it is that I finally -  _ finally  _ found you again, only to find you my enemy.)

How many nights did we go hungry, while the wealthiest citizens hoarded rations and let them spoil? As much as you love to needle me for vanishing, for abandoning you, you forget that  _ I was there with you _ . I get it, I get the anger, I get the hatred. Perhaps my own ancestor was not transformed into a sacrificial puppet to feed the selfish whims of the highborn, but I know what it is to have the claws of your lineage hook in tight and refuse to let go.

My father was not a good man, and my mother - worse. I am the culmination of their shared vices and evil, cursed with the knowledge that my existence has done naught but hurt, no matter how good my intentions.

Oh, but you will probably say I am none of these things, that I am being melodramatic and perhaps you are - on some level - right. I am not evil because two horrible, selfish people chose to bring a child into the world and then promptly abandon her. 

But I am evil because my attempts at being good are not enough. I am not a hero. I am a scholar ‘gifted’ with a strength I never asked for. I do not know the right words to comfort, I cannot bring myself to hold another person when they are suffering, and my tone is always wrong.

Did you not say so yourself?

When you lashed out at me following the loss of your parents, I did not begrudge you. If my words were insufficient and my actions mere salt in the wound, then I resigned myself to playing whatever role you needed to feel better. 

You were mine, I was yours, and we were all the other had. I could forgive your cruelty then, as I do now. I am evil because I left you when you needed me, even if you said otherwise.

I try to voice these feelings, but the resounding response is that question I am certain you are familiar with by this point:  _ Why? _

And I admit, I have never given much thought to why until I tried to write it down. Loving you felt so natural, I never stopped to think about why I did - about why I still do.

(Oh, I am sure you will scoff and push me away, perhaps take the opportunity to remind me that you nearly killed me. How can I love you, when you made it clear you held no such regard for me?)

But you -  _ you _ always were the one to insist we were family, capable of sharing any burden, and a naive part of me wishes to believe this is still what you feel. 

It may not be, I suppose I broke your heart when I told you I wanted no part in your plan to wrest Bozja from its people and hand it straight to Gabranth. But I loved you, even as you made me the villain once again to play a convenient role in the narrative you’ve so carefully constructed to fit your ends.

You may insist you never loved me, but you are not so great an actor that you can disguise your true feelings. Is that why you chose to give the truth to the Resistance? Is that why you told me you loved me that night in Doma, before you absconded with Mikoto and the means to project your vicious hunger for vengeance onto our people?

Perhaps. 

I am no better, after all. I promised the Resistance your head and the safe return of the Blades, knowing I could provide neither. I could not -  _ would not  _ \- kill you, even as you tried your hardest to kill me.

I am no better, because my heart  _ aches  _ for you, I wish to reach for you and touch your soul in a way that is just as meaningful. I am not your blood, I am not Nevembya, I have no great power to offer you or the means by which to bring you peace. 

I am no better because I am so, so relieved you survived. I am happy you are alive, even if the others are not. 

I wish my voice had been strong enough to reach you.

I wish I could tell you these things face-to-face.

You are my family, Misija. I love you. I’m sorry I was not what you needed.


End file.
